


82. Real dinner. Fake date.

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [82]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-03
Updated: 2008-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Natalie is played by Jay Linden.</p>
    </blockquote>





	82. Real dinner. Fake date.

**Author's Note:**

> Natalie is played by Jay Linden.

_**Natalie Portman and Sam Worthington. Real dinner, fake date.** _   
[Current. Takes place in the evening after [Sam and Ryan's naughty phone call](http://www.journalfen.net/users/sam_worthington/10421.html).]

"It's not exactly fancy," Sam says, helping Natalie out of the car in front of Nonna's Oven, "but the food's fantastic. Real old-fashioned Italian, with Nonna still running the place."

"Fancy is overrated when the food is good," Natalie says, keeping her hand on his arm as she steps out of the car. Small and low key actually works well, both for her, and for this whole fantasy. Plus, finding a small, out of the way place seems very Sam, and it's definitely very her. "Plus, I'm starving," she admits, grinning at him.

"Good." Sam grins. "You'll need your appetite here," he says, walking them to the door and then holding it open for Natalie to enter first. Inside the room is warm and filled with happy families and couples very obviously on dates. "Nonna!" he says, wrapping his arms around the little old Italian lady who comes to greet them. "It's good to see you again."

"Sammy!" She beams at him and hugs back, squeezing him tight, then peeks around his arm at Natalie. "I know you," she says, her tone almost accusing.

Sam turns a little. "Nonna, this is Natalie. Natalie Portman. She won an Oscar this year," he tells her.

"Ah! Oh yes," Nonna beams at Natalie too and steps around Sam to take Natalie's hands in hers. "Welcome to my restaurant," she says, taking a long look at Natalie and then back at Sam. "She's beautiful but she needs feeding."

"Sorry," Sam mouths at Natalie. "That's why I brought her here," he tells Nonna. "So she can have some of your delicious cooking. She just told me she's starving."

"Oh! then we need to get you seated." Nonna flusters and starts bustling around, grabbing menus from the front counter. "Follow me," she orders over her shoulder, and Sam motions for Natalie to go ahead.

Natalie smiles when the tiny old lady--Nonna, apparently--calls Sam 'Sammy', and manages not to laugh when she gets the 'pretty, but skinny' label. She's heard that before. "Thank you, ma'am. Sam's been telling me how good the food is here--I'm looking forward to it," she says, following after Nonna as they're led to a quiet booth on the far side of the room.

"I recommend the lasagne," Nonna says, opening their menu and handing them over. "Although the risotto ai funghi is," she kisses her fingers to complete the description. " _My_ Nonna's recipe," she adds, beaming at both of them before excusing herself.

Natalie leans in and whispers to Sam, wanting to make sure that Nonna won't hear her. "Are you sure that she can do something vegetarian?" she whispers. "I won't get yelled at? I bet her Nonna's recipes weren't designed for us non-meat eaters." She's grinning when she says it though.

Sam laughs. "I checked before we came," he says with a smile. "The risotto's vegetarian and there's a spinach lasagna in the specials for tonight."

"Thank goodness," Natalie says. "I wouldn't want to offend her. There's a restaurant I went to in London once, where the waiters were so afraid of the chef that they wouldn't allow any substitutions. There was always the risk that the chef would come out and scold the customer for thinking they knew better than he did what should be in the food."

"Yeah?" Sam shakes his head in disbelief. "I can't stand that kind of stuff. There's no way I'd frequent a place that doesn't treat its staff right." Smiling at the busboy as he comes by and fills their water glasses.

"It was very strange," Natalie says. "They all adored him... and they were all absolutely terrified of him. He was just very serious about his menu," she says, murmuring a thank you to the busboy and taking a long sip of water.

"Well, that's different, I suppose, if they liked him," Sam allows, not wanting to seem like too much of a hard-ass. "I guess everyone gets pretty intense about the things they love."

"Yeah... like I said, it was strange though. Not really my preference," Natalie says. "Though I do understand being intense about what's important to you."

Sam smiles. "So, what are you intense about? Work, Christina..."

"Christina... work... pretty much," Natalie admits, smiling. "School, when I was still taking classes. I still dream about completing my Masters degree, but that's not a priority right now," she admits. "How about you?"

"Work and Ryan," Sam says with a grin. "I dropped out when I was seventeen and then got pulled into NIDA a few years later - that's the arts institute in Sydney - so I'm not really much for school," he confesses.

"I'll be the first to admit that I'm kind of a huge nerd, so I think that makes this a 'it's not you, it's me' moment," Natalie says, grinning. "Also, I was a child actor, and the number of child actors who don't make it to a successful adult career versus the ones who do..." she lets that one trail off. "I wasn't willing to be twenty and have nothing to go on but what I did as a teenager. I may have approached things differently if I'd started older."

Sam nods. "I think it's great if it's something you're good at," he says, pointing out, "Ryan has his degree." He nods at the menu. "You should take a look at that before Nonna comes and gives me heck for not feeding you soon enough."

"The special--the spinach lasagne," Natalie decides. "We can't get you in trouble when it's only our first 'date'," she says, grinning. "What's Ryan's degree in?" she asks.

"Music." Sam smiles. "What about Christina? Did she go to university?" he asks, pausing while their server comes over and takes their order - the spinach lasagna for Natalie and the risotto for Sam. "Would you like some wine?"

"Please," Natalie says. "Anything red is good." She reaches for her water and takes another sip. "Christina didn't go to university, no," she says. "She went the child actor route too, and just never stopped."

Sam orders a carafe of the house red and nods as Natalie tells him about Christina. "What about the baby-to-be?" he asks, keeping his voice nice and low. "Would you encourage them to go into acting?"

"I'd encourage them to do anything they wanted to do, but they'd have to really want it," Natalie says. "I love what I do, but starting young is really hard. I'd rather they waited."

"I had enough problems when I started in my early twenties," Sam says with a small chuckle. "I can't imagine doing it as a kid. Do you wish your parents had made you wait?"

"I don't know," Natalie admits, going for honest. "What I am glad about is that I was stubborn enough to make the choices I did with the projects I chose. I was offered _Lolita_ about three times, but I wasn't comfortable. I'm glad I said no."

Sam shudders. "Creepy book and even creepier movie," he says, sitting back as the waiter brings their wine and pours them each a glass.

"I got a little mouthy about it when I said no--I was a kid, and I could have chosen my words better, but I was really not interested," she says, smiling at the waiter and taking her wine glass. "Is there anything you avoid when you're looking at projects?"

"Yeah," Sam nods. "Anything that gives me the creeps." He grins. "I don't know. I haven't really been offered anything that majorly turned me off yet but I don't think I'd want to play a character I find morally reprehensible. You know, rapist, child molester..."

She nods. "I can understand that. Sometimes an acting challenge doesn't need to be met," she says. "I turn down a lot more than I accept, but I'm lucky that I'm in a position to do that. Spoiled, even."

"I'm lucky too," Sam says, taking a sip of his wine. "Avatar's put me in the position where I could go the rest of my life without working if I wanted, so I can definitely pick and choose."

"Doesn't it feel better when you get to make those choices?" Natalie says, playing with the stem of her wine glasses. "And we really are lucky--a lot of actors don't get that option. There's always a chance that a movie you thought would be amazing will turn out to... well. Not be. But you can feel a lot better going in if you know that you're not having to pick films just to pay the rent."

"Do you ever pick a role just because you think it'll be an amazing experience?" Sam asks. "Not necessarily the best movie ever or even something you're going to be really proud to have on your resume but just because you really want to work with the director or play that type of character or think it'll just be a hell of a lot of fun?"

"Absolutely," Natalie says. "I mean... _Mars Attacks_ was a _terrible_ movie... but I was a young actor, and I got to share a set with a list of absolute legends--Jack Nicholson, Glenn Close, Annette Benning... tons of people. For networking alone, it would have been worth it, but to see those actors up close, when I was only a few films into my career? It was amazing. Really gave me something to aspire to." She takes a sip of wine as she thinks about the question some more, then smiles, wrinkling her nose. "And at this point, I think that I can say that I'll do just about anything Mike Nichols wants me to. I'd be a crowd extra in something he filmed, if that was the only part he had for me."

Sam grins. "Yeah. I felt that way about Avatar. Not that I didn't think it would be a big hit but I really wanted to work with James Cameron and I learned so fucking much from him."

"I've never worked with him, but I have heard that," Natalie says. "I like watching him when he's being interviewed or talking about his work and his movies. He's so enthusiastic. And maybe it's the student in me, but I really do think that even on the movies that don't go as you hoped they would, even on the ones that in retrospect, you might not have chosen, you still learn a lot. And it all makes you better at your job."

"Definitely," Sam agrees. "What's been your worst experience though?"

"Working with Woody Allen, and Star Wars," Natalie says immediately. "Allen's style didn't work for me at all, and I constantly felt frustrated and like I was a terrible actor... and he made me sing. Star Wars for so, so many reasons, but the worst was all the bluescreen. I know it's part of modern filmmaking, but it was just never ending."

Sam nods. With Terminator, Avatar and both Clash movies, he knows exactly what she's talking about. Thankfully he's been able to space things out and do smaller, more personal projects in between. "I'm glad no one's thought to try and make me sing," he says with a smile.

Natalie shuddered dramatically. "It was bad. Very bad. I am no triple threat," she says. "How about you? Best experience, worst experience?"

"Best experience was this Aussie film, Somersault," Sam says, well aware most Americans aren't familiar with anything he's done back home. "The director was amazing and she gave me the chance to play the kind of really multi-faceted character that I hadn't had a chance up until then to play." He smiles at Natalie. Christ she's gorgeous. "Um. And worst?" That one takes him a moment. "I don't know that I've got a worst experience per se but I don't do well before starting each film. I get all tied up in nerves and my mood goes all to shit. I keep thinking somebody'll wake up and realize I'm just fucking brickie who got lucky. Send me back where I came from."

Natalie winces in sympathy. "That's rough," she says. "But... you know what? To some degree, I think a lot of us feel that way, at least some of the time. There are so, so few of us that make it, and so, so many that try, and if you go by effort alone, a lot of them "deserve" it more than a lot of the people who make it. I was randomly discovered and lucked into my start... at least you went to school for this," she points out. She takes a sip of wine, and smiles at Sam. "I don't know if any of that helps or not--that kind of anxiety doesn't disappear with the snap of a finger. But believe me--you're not alone with what you're thinking."

"You mean an Oscar doesn't solve it all?" Sam teases, sitting back as their dinner arrives.

She wrinkles her nose at him, but can't sustain the expression when the food is set down. "Oh my God, that smells good," she murmurs. She waits until the server is gone before she continues. "And no. Not even close, cheeky," she says. "If it wasn't for the extra attention and pressure that we've got since I won? I'm not sure Christina could have talked me into this," she admits, very softly.

"Well, I'm glad she was able," Sam says, every bit as softly. "I can't imagine anyone I'd rather have as my fake girlfriend."

"She's smart," Natalie says. "And a lot of the time, she's a lot more practical than I am--and this is one of them. I know I was the last one to sign on, but I'm on board," she promises.

She smiles at Sam, then settles back in her chair, blowing on a forkful of lasagne before she takes a bite. It's every bit as good as it smells. "How's Ryan doing?" she asks, looking up at Sam again. "All of this... is he really doing okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," Sam nods, sprinkling some parmesan on his risotto. "He knows it's necessary and he knows he comes first with me, but we're still pretty new and it worries him I've made all these changes to my life -- that I might end up resenting him or going back, I guess. Which I'm not going to," he adds quickly. Just so Natalie knows. "They're all good changes and he makes me really happy." Which is still the understatement of the year.

"I can see that," Natalie says, still taking the time to blow on every mouthful of lasagne before she eats it. She hates burning her mouth. "The way both of you look at each other, the way you talk about each other when you're with people that you can be honest with... it's not the sort of thing that you shine on," she says. "How does it feel? All the changes you've made since you've met him... everything that's different?"

"It feels good," Sam says truthfully. "It feels good to have a home base and someone to come home to. Someone who gets me." His smile widening into a grin as he continues, "And the sex is incredibly hot. I have to admit -- I never really believed all that stuff about how sex with someone you love is better, but it is, with Ryan. And he takes care of me. The biggest thing is being able to trust him though. I haven't had that in my life before. Not even with my parents."

"God, isn't the sex so much better?" Natalie says, smiling back at him. "If Ryan could see the look on your face right now, hear how much you love the stuff that's different, I bet he'd worry less." Or not. Some people are terminal worriers, after all. "I love having a home to come back to... someone to come back to that makes it a home." She sips at her wine again, playing with the stem. "I think--maybe--I get it though. Why they worry."

"Yeah?" Sam takes another bite of his risotto, everything cooked to perfection. "Why's that?"

"They are who they are, and they've known who that was a long time before we came along," Natalie says. "You said you've never been the relationship type, right? Never domestic? And Ryan's worried about changing you. It's a bit of a guess, but that says to me that he has been domestic and in relationships before."

"When I met Christina, I was living with two guys, and I'd never been with a woman. My bi was purely theoretical," she says. "A few months later I was alternating between shacking up with her in London, and trekking back to New York and the boys. A few months after that, I ended things with the boys, and my move to London became permanent." She takes a few beats, fiddling with her glass again.

"They came into our lives, and our lives changed because of them. And you and I know that's a good thing," she says. "I think that fear lingers, in the back of their minds, even if it's theoretical. Am I going to permanently go back to dick? Are you going to decide that you miss being a hound? I think it's got to be heady to know that someone's changed their life for you."

"Yeah," Sam agrees softly. He's thought about it but he's never thought about it in quite those terms before. "And Ryan knows I like women too, so there's the whole idea I might decide it's easier to go that route because I can."

"And if you're a person who doesn't need much to get them worrying, and you add those elements in..." Natalie sighs, then smiles a little. "I almost never take it personally, because it isn't... not really. But I don't think that worry is going to just disappear. It's not a lack of trust, I'm sure of that. It's just insecurity and dark of the night, worst case scenario fear. It doesn't help that on paper, we mesh as well as we do, Sam," Natalie says wryly.

"Yeah, I guess not," Sam allows. "Maybe we should make up something we don't like about each other just to reassure them," he suggests with a grin. Joking. Mostly.

"We'll have to think about that one," Natalie shoots back, grinning too. "There is the part where I can't share your shoes," she says. "Huge bonus, being able to share a closet. And I don't submit. At all," she adds. "That probably wouldn't work for you."

"It might," Sam says with a playful leer. "I'm more of a sadist than a dominant."

"And I'm more of a masochist than an anything else, and the only person I tell what to do, in or out of bed, is Christina," Natalie says, sticking her tongue out at him. "You're not helping with the on paper thing, Sam," she says, pointing out the obvious. "Not that you were trying. Sadists are such brats," she says, sighing dramatically, then smirking. "Which I get to say because of not being submissive, and therefore not getting in shit for saying it."

Sam laughs. "I don't stand on ceremony even with Ryan," he says. "Formal just ruins the fun." He tops up their wineglasses from the carafe. "You could say I'm dumb as a post," he suggests, "and you'd go nuts if you had to spend too much time with me."

"If that means I'm going to get to see Ryan being sassy to you, I totally approve," Natalie says, laughing too, then giving him a look. "Intelligence is not measured solely by academic success," she says, putting on her stern face, just for a moment.

"I don't buy for one moment that you're stupid, and if you persist in saying you are, you just might find yourself getting your ass kicked by a girl." Her expression shifts as she smiles sweetly and flutters her lashes. "And I've had more fight training than you have," she points out.

Christ. "I thought you were trying to turn me off," Sam counters.

"How was I supposed to know that a girl beating you up for putting yourself down would turn you on?" Natalie says, taking a delicate bite of her lasagne. After all--they're still trying to be seen, so the casual, friendly, flirty attitude is still kind of necessary. They're just lucky that they're doing this somewhere that they can actually talk about reality, and not just play pretend.

"You know, thinking about it, the media will do a good enough job picking apart why we don't work for each other," Natalie points out, shrugging. "We don't need to do their job for them. If we click, it looks better. Our job as far as home is to prove that the fact that we line up on paper doesn't mean we're going to choose each other. And the only way we can do that is to make this look as real as possible, sell it, and go home to them at the end of the day, since we're doing this for them."

Sam nods. "I already told Ryan I need him to be honest with me, that if he sees something about you and me that really bothers him, he can't just hold it in. He needs to let me know so we can figure out whether it's just the usual tabloid crap or whether you and I are going too far."

"I'm hoping that Christina will too," Natalie says. "And I'm hoping that we can avoid causing that worry in the first place," she admits. "Christina pointed out that even though you and I have a history of no comment and being private and coy with the press, it's only going to carry us so far here," she says. "I think we can still get away with not talking about anything to do with the particulars of our 'relationship', but once we start going to appearances together, that's when it's going to shift, I think."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know... no, that's not exactly it," Natalie says, words tangling as she tries to get her thoughts in order. "I just think we're going to go past rumours, whether we make a flat out press statement or not. I'm trying to figure out what that means we have to do, publicly. What we let them see."

"I think a kiss or two, holding hands, me opening the door for you, touching each other -- chastely, I mean," Sam clarifies with a laugh. "I think it can be pretty simple and it doesn't have to involve us crawling all over each other. I wouldn't do that with a real girlfriend in public anyway. Outside of Citadel," he clarifies again, shaking his head in amusement.

"Citadel is a very different story," Natalie agrees. "That's where the tables for dancing live," she adds, grinning at him. "That reminds me--we've talked a bit about your friends, and how this is supposed to convince them too. Are they going to want to meet me? How will that work? I have this mental image of a line forming to meet the woman who tamed Sam Worthington," she says, snorting softly.

"They'll want to meet you if they get the chance but most of them live in Australia so unless they're here or we're there, you probably won't have to deal with them, or not en masse anyway." Which doesn't really answer the heart of the question. "I guess if you were in L.A. and one of them was visiting, we'd pretty much do the same thing for them we're doing for the papers. Holding hands, kissing, you sleeping in my room. Jumping up and down on the bed while pretending to have the best orgasm of your life," he jokes. "Have you seen Easy A?"

Natalie laughs. "And now I have a mental image of you as the bullied high school geek," she teases. "You could always sneak Ryan into the room first and gag him. You two break the bed, I provide the secondary audio," she says, teasing right back. Although there are worse ideas in the world....

"Ryan would go for that," Sam grins, finishing the last of his risotto.

"I thought he might," Natalie says, grinning too. "You need a secret passage between your room and 'Ryan's room'," Natalie says. "Then he can sneak in, and I can sneak out, have a bubble bath and a dirty phone call with Christina,"

"You know, we just had the guys in from Citadel to do the playroom," Sam says thoughtfully. "I should have them take another look at the plans. That might actually be possible." And if it is, it might be one of the most fucking brilliant ideas ever.

"I mean, why not?" Natalie says. "Even if it's not when I'm around, it would mean you don't need to sleep in separate rooms, or risk sneaking through the hallway if someone's visiting."

"Yeah." Sam nods again. "I'll definitely look into it." He smiles at Natalie. "Would you like some dessert? They have amazing tiramisu here and gelato too. Everything homemade."

"You don't have to twist my arm when there's homemade dessert on the line," Natalie says, smiling back. "Plus, we can't get you in trouble with Nonna for not feeding me enough. Tiramisu sounds awesome."

Sam signals for their waiter and orders two tiramisus. "Coffee?"

"Always," Natalie says, smiling at the waiter. "I never turn down coffee or chocolate."

"Make that two," Sam says, turning back to Natalie when the waiter leaves and the busboy clears their plates. "So... is there anything else you'd like to ask me? Anything goes at this point."

Natalie thinks about the question, absently biting the tip of her index finger for a few moments. "Right now, in this moment, assuming all of this works out, how permanent do you see this being for you?" she asks. "I know we talked about if we decide we don't want it any more, amicable break up, all of that, but that's not what I mean," she says. "Is this--fake girlfriend, fake public life--something you think you're going to want to maintain, or do you plan to come out at some point?"

"I'm not sure," Sam says. "I want to do right by Ryan and I know he'd like to be married and have kids but right now, there's no way that wouldn't mean the end of my career. Or at least the kind of career I have today. We've said we'll look at things again in five years and maybe at that point, I won't care or things will have changed." He ducks his head a little. Wishing his work didn't mean so much to him. That he could just say to hell with it and pick Ryan over everything else. It makes him feel like a heel. "I guess you could say I'd like to have my cake and eat it too and I'm hoping at some point that might be possible."

"It's different for you," Natalie says. "It is. Hollywood's full of double standards. It'd even be different for me than it would be for you. I'd be willing to handle the hit that my career might take if we came out, because most of the directors I want to work with wouldn't care. It would affect me, career wise, but not in the same way it would affect someone who's a leading man, action star. That's a big reason to stay right where you are," she says.

"What I'm not willing to have affected right now is my personal life. It's mine. Christina's mine. They can have Natalie Portman, actor. They don't get to have us too--especially once there's a baby in the mix. I know I'm the one who took the longest to convince, but I'm on board now," she says.

Sam smiles, grateful for Natalie's understanding. "What about when the baby gets old enough to be calling you mum?" he asks, wondering if she and Christina have already talked about this. It seems like they would. Like they're a million times more prepared for _everything_ than Ryan and him.

"No idea," Natalie admits. "Right now, we've been focusing on conception and cover for the pregnancy. I have no idea what we're going to do when we get to that stage. I don't know if we'll come up with another name for me, or how we'll make it work. We'll have to figure all that out eventually, but for the moment, we're letting it be tomorrow's problem. We've got a donor, we've got dates, and a press strategy for Christina as a single mom. It's a start."

It makes Sam feel a little better that they don't have every single base covered. "Sounds like a great start," he says, smiling at the waiter as he sets their dessert and coffee in front of them. "Are you using someone you know?" he asks. "If you don't mind me asking." "I don't mind," Natalie says, once the waiter's left.

"We're using a good friend of mine--he's an actor, and he's a club member. Ever heard of James Purefoy?" she asks.

"Is he the guy who played Marc Antony in _Rome_?"

Natalie grins. "Uh huh."

Sam laughs. "Seems like a very good choice, genetically speaking." He grins back.

Natalie snorts, loudly. "Dirty," she scolds Sam, even though she's grinning. "Still, he is. He's one of my closest friends, and generally my one stop shop for all things kink that aren't a part of my relationship with Christina," she says. "He's a great dom, a good person, and stupidly in love and devoted to his husband," she adds. "And quite happy to be a favourite uncle, rather than a co-parent, in this situation."

Sam nods, digging into his tiramisu. "That must huge," he says. "Having someone you can trust not to suddenly want to be a bigger part of the kid's life."

"It definitely made it a more complicated decision," Natalie agrees. She's eating hers more slowly, enjoying every single bite. It's every bit as good as Sam promised. "I thought of something... I don't know if it'll help or not, because obviously we're different people and all that, but it probably won't hurt." Right. Babbling. She needs to do something about that.

"You said that you know that Ryan wants kids and stuff, and that you're not ready. And I kind of get the feeling that worries you," she says. "Maybe it'll help to know that I was ready first, and when I was ready, Christina wasn't yet," she says. "We talked about it, she needed more time, and we decided to let it go, and talk about it later. And I won't lie, I was disappointed, but I really was okay with it. Because it wasn't just about wanting kids. It was about wanting to have kids with _her_. Obviously, I can't read Ryan's mind, so I can't say what he's thinking, but just... it's something to think about."

"No, I know," Sam says. "He says it's about building a family with me, but right now, it just... it's too soon and it's hard for me to picture even being a dad. I mean, I like kids, and a lot of my mates have them and it's fun playing around with them, but I guess I worry about the responsibility. Even with Ryan - he's the first time I've taken responsibility for anyone other than myself. Or let anyone take care of me."

"You know that it's okay that it's too soon, right?" Natalie says. "You and Ryan are still working toward building a life together. Plus... uh oh," she says, cutting herself off. "I can feel my psychology student brain kicking into gear. If you want me to shut up, you should stop me now," she warns him. She's grinning, but she also means it sincerely. Some people don't want someone poking around in their brain over dessert--go figure.

"No," Sam says with a slow grin. "If you have something to say, you should say it. I don't mind."

"Okay, but I did give you the out," Natalie says. "You strike me as a person who is very in the moment. You fully inhabit the present. You enjoy it, really live there, _enjoy_ what you have, while you have it. You embrace the current. You try not to dwell on the past, and you don't like to worry about the future, especially if it affects how things are in the present. I haven't had as much interaction with Ryan as you, obviously, but it seems to me like Ryan is a planner. He looks forward to the future, and tries to prepare for it while he's in the present. He thinks about the past, and he uses it to inform both his present actions, and his potential future actions." She pauses for a moment, taking another bite of her dessert.

"If I'm right about all that--and this is my opinion, so maybe I'm not--all that means is that you each see the world a different way. Which doesn't mean you're not compatible," she says, shaking her head firmly. "Far from it. I don't think that people have to be alike in the way they see the world in order to be compatible. It just means that you have to recognize that you interact with the past, present, and future in different ways. Like how two people looking at a painting, or listening to a piece of music rarely come away from it feeling the same about it."

Sam nods. "Yeah, I can see that. What about you and Christina? Do you see the world the same way?"

"No," Natalie says immediately. "We see things very, very differently. And sometimes I'm right, sometimes she's right, and sometimes we both are. But what I really love is those moments when I'm able to get a glimpse of what it is that she sees, and why... that bit of understanding, being able to stand in the shoes of someone you love and _get it_ , even if it's just for a moment. We don't have to see things the same way to be right for each other. We're right for each other because when I imagine a world in which we're not together, that world is _wrong_ , and not worth living in."

"Yeah..." That last part really gets to Sam and all he can do is nod. He can't imagine being without Ryan now. Can't imagine a life without him.

Just because Natalie talks a lot (too much, sometimes) doesn't mean that sometimes she doesn't know when to shut up. Sam's response may only be one word, but his body language, the expression on his face says a whole lot more. She smiles, reaching out and giving his hand a gentle squeeze, then settles back into her chair and takes another bite of her dessert and a sip of her wine, giving Sam a moment.

"I called Ryan this afternoon," Sam admits. "Two fucking nights away and I had to call him," he says with a soft laugh.

"Is it going to get me a Look if I call you a sap?" Natalie teases. "Because I mean it as a compliment. You're good together. Besides--I bet you call him tonight too," she predicts, eyes sparkling.

Sam ignores the first part, cheeks flushing just a little. "You'd lose that one," he says, eyes sparkling as he takes another bite of his tiramisu. "I gave him an assignment so he'll be working on that, plus it'll be middle of the night there when I get back to the hotel."

"And I can't _possibly_ imagine you calling Ryan in the middle of the night and waking him up because you wanted to talk to him," Natalie shoots back. "I can't even comprehend a dom or sadist who'd _ever_ do such a thing as cost a boy his rest," she adds, tongue firmly in cheek.

Sam laughs. "Okay, maybe you're right," he admits. "I might call him. But he's been sleeping badly since we went to London so I'm not rushing to disturb him." He grins. "This is the first time we've really been apart so you're probably right about any other time."

"Fair enough," Natalie says. "So I'm right in general, if not right this particular evening. I'll settle for that," she says. "Has he spent much time in London before? I could see it being hard to get used to if you've mostly been in LA or Australia. Vastly different, and not even just the weather."

"No, he hasn't. He says it feels really closed in and he likes to run and it's really not the same as here or back home," Sam says, taking a sip of his coffee now that it's cooled some. "Especially after spending the last couple months right on the beach."

"Ouch," Natalie says, frowning in sympathy. "No beach, no surfing, no sunshine--not the same as LA or Australia anyway, that's for sure--and you're probably working idiotic hours." She fiddles with her hair, looking for a solution, constant fixer that she is. "Does he have access to a car?" she asks. "Has he tried going out for a drive? He could get out of the city, find some sky. Maybe find somewhere to run, at least somewhere to breathe. And it's _England_ \--you can drive in almost any direction, find a totally different place to explore, and still find your way back home in time for dinner."

"We're right downtown so there's the whole congestion charge thing," Sam says, fiddling with a sugar packet. "And I think he'd find driving there a real pain in the ass, but we've found a few more places he can go running. Get on the tube and head out a bit. We're trying to get away from London on some of my weekends off -- except for this one, obviously -- and then we're in Tenerife in another couple of weeks." He sighs. "He'll be okay," he says, as much to reassure himself as Natalie.

"I hope so," Natalie says. "Like you said, it won't be too long. I wouldn't plan on a permanent move to London any time though, from the sounds of it."

"Yeah, no kidding." Sam shakes his head. "I love the place for a visit but I really do like being by the beach. I love waking up and looking out at the water. Being able to go right out and surf or swim..." He smiles, surprised by just how much he misses their home. "Just the air alone... it's really relaxing."

"I believe you," Natalie says. "I've never been a huge sun and water baby--I'm sure the skin tone doesn't give it away at all," she deadpans, lifting her arm to show off one pale wrist. "But it sounds relaxing. And next time I have to be in LA for work, I'm staying closer to the water, just to give it a try."

"You'll love it," Sam assures her, "and when we're back, I'll get to those surfing lessons for you," he adds with a grin.

"Somehow, I still think that's going to end up with a lot of you and Ryan laughing while I look like a very small drowned rat," Natalie says. "Maybe a drowned mouse. But I'll try."

Sam grins. It's been a great evening. "Would you like some more coffee?" he asks. "Or anything else?"

"I'm full," Natalie says, shaking her head. "Do you think I've eaten enough to keep you from getting in trouble with Nonna?" she teases.

"I think so, but I'm sure we'll find out," Sam says, waving their waiter over and asking for the bill. "She won't let us leave without saying goodbye."

She laughs softly. "Well, I've got your back," Natalie promises. "I ate as much as I possibly could. Maybe more," she says with a bit of a groan. "It was worth it though."

"I'm glad to hear it," Sam says, briefly checking the bill when it comes before handing over his credit card. "One of my mates told me about this vegan organic place over on Columbus. I think they have a few locations. Blossom? Have you been there?"

"No," Natalie says, looking intrigued. "Clearly I've been out of New York too long," she says. "I feel like I'm having to get to know the city all over again. A lot changes in a few years."

"Maybe we could try it out the next time I'm here," Sam suggests. It can't be any worse than some of the weird stuff Ryan tries to feed him.

"I'm gonna take that challenge," Natalie says, grinning back at him. "I bet that I can find something there that you'll not only eat, but actually like. Not that I'm trying to turn you," she adds quickly. "I'm not evangelical about my vegetarianism. But I bet I can find something." Even if she has to enlist Ryan's help figuring it out. "Plus, you getting 'dragged' to a vegan restaurant will help you out with that whole whipped thing for your friends," she teases.

"I'm the one who suggested it," Sam protests but he's laughing.

"Ooh, that's even _better_ than being dragged!" she fires back, laughing too.

"I'm totally screwed, aren't I?" Sam says, shaking his head.

"Pretty much," Natalie says, taking one last sip of her water. "But I'm also pretty sure that you knew that going in. Oh, _wait_... were you talking about me, or were we talking about you and Ryan?" she says, all in a whisper.

"I'm not even going to answer that," Sam says, feeling the heat in his face. He gets a small break though as the waiter comes back with the credit slip. He signs it and slips his card and copy back into his wallet, laughing as he sees Nonna bustling towards them from the kitchen.

"Sammy!" She grabs him again as he rises, kissing both cheeks. "Next time you don't stay away so long," she orders.

Natalie manages to avoid laughing--Ryan she'd pegged as a blusher early, but Sam takes more effort--smiling politely at Sam's side by the time Nonna comes out to say her goodbyes.

"You make sure he doesn't stay away so long," Nonna orders Natalie, shaking a finger at her before giving her a huge hug.

"Yes, ma'am," Natalie says solemnly, returning the hug without the slightest hesitation. "Everything was absolutely wonderful," she adds.

Nonna beams at her. "Thank you. I make all my food with love and I never let anyone leave unhappy," she says, hugging Natalie and then Sam again. "Remember. Come back soon. I make you budino di cioccolata special next time."

Sam groans. "We will, I promise," he says, crossing his heart and kissing Nonna on the cheek again. "Night, Nonna." Unsure of just how long it'll take to completely extract themselves when there's a yell from the kitchen and she's gone. "Door, now," he tells Natalie, laughing as they spill out onto the street.

Natalie's laughing too, even after the first set of flashbulbs go off, and she's temporarily blinded. Honest to God--if she sprains an ankle coming out of a building some time because she can't see, she's going to go after a photographer with her _shoe_.

What it does mean is that she grabs for Sam's arm and holds on a little more tightly, tucking herself in beside him to avoid getting trampled or shoved.

"Shit," Sam growls, holding a hand up in front of him and shielding Natalie as much as he can - god knows they'll get their photos anyway - as they make their way to the car which is parked a few doors down. The driver is out the moment he sees them coming, back door open and Sam makes sure Natalie's smoothly into the car before he glares at the photographers and then follows her. "That was fun," he says, shaking his head. Fuck. "They should have someone at your place by the time we get there."

"Lovely," Natalie says, a little breathless... and a little ticked. Yes, this is the plan, yes, they made sure to be just public enough and let enough details sneak out that the reporters were able to find them. That was the whole point, after all. But she never, ever got used to it. "It'd be nice if their mother's had taught them not to shove a lady. Or any manners of any kind," she adds.

"No kidding," Sam says. "Assholes. Are you okay?" he asks, concerned that she's been hurt and he hasn't even noticed.

"No--no, I'm fine," Natalie assures him. "I've been through a few of these," she says. It's why she prefers red carpet appearances, if she has to be in front of press. They're all behind a rope, and there's only so close they can get. "I'm just more easily pushed around than I'd like."

"Yeah. I suppose you could kick their asses if you really wanted to," he says with a grin.

"Yeah, I don't think that'd lead to the kind of press we're looking for," she says, snorting softly, but grinning after a moment. "As tempting as it is...."

"Well, just so you know, before we get out there and put on a show, I had a great time tonight," Sam says, smiling at Natalie. "It's one thing doing this, but it's another to be able to enjoy doing it-- well, the you and me part, not the assholes with cameras part."

"I did too," Natalie says. "You make a pretty good fake boyfriend, Sam," she adds. "And a pretty good friend."

"Thanks." Sam grins. "So, you're coming to London next? Or am I coming back?"

"I think I'm actually due in the UK for some kind of PR god knows what in the next few weeks," Natalie says. "Send me your shooting schedule again, and double check to see if it lines up."

"Sounds good. Otherwise we're in the Canary Islands for a couple of weeks after that and then hopefully back in L.A."

"So... me in Europe, you in the Canary Islands, maybe one trip back to New York for you to voluntarily eat vegan food, and then you'll be on the left coast," Natalie lists. "You know, scheduling my real life is complicated enough," she says, putting on a fake pout and blowing out a huff of air.

"Yeah, but look at it this way, if we actually lived in the same city, we'd have to do a lot more of this," Sam points out, chuckling at the look on Natalie's face. "The bad parts, I mean. Not the friends part."

"Fair point," Natalie says, dropping the pout. "Thank God for shooting schedules and living on separate coasts. I'd need to hire a PA just to keep track if you were local."

The car pulls up in front of Natalie's building and Sam looks out. Sure enough, he can spot a couple of photographers lying in wait for them. "So, we'll make a run for it, kiss at the door and I'll give them the evil eye while you go inside."

"Sounds good," Natalie says, grabbing her purse, and making sure that her shoes are still on properly. "Just remember--if I'm not allowed to take a swing at any of them, you're not allowed to take a swing at any of them," she warns him. "Ready?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam says, jumping out of the car, his arm around Natalie as he rushes her up to the front of her building, flash bulbs popping and people yelling at them, trying to get them to look their way. He makes sure at least one guy gets a decent picture before using his body to shield Natalie at the door. "I had an amazing time. I'll call you when I get back to London," he says, loud enough for whoever's _right there_ to hear before he leans in and presses his lips to hers, the kiss soft and warm.

She lifts up on her toes just a little when he leans down to kiss her, smiling when he pulls away. "Thank you," she says, giving his arm a squeeze before she pulls away and moves to slip inside. "Bye, Sam," she murmurs, waving just the tips of her fingers before she disappears inside, and closes the door, leaning against it, still hearing the photographers shouts from the other side.

"Bye," Sam lingers for just a moment, smiling after her before turning to glower at the photographers surrounding him. "Jesus Christ. Would you fuck off already," he growls, shoving back through them to the car and slamming the door behind him as he gets in. Relief coursing through him as the doors lock. They've done it.  



End file.
